Birthday
by BlackFox12
Summary: It’s Dean’s birthday, and John isn’t around again


**Birthday**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from Supernatural and I'm not making any money from this fic

**Summary:** It's Dean's birthday, and John isn't around again

**Prompt chosen:** 4 – chores, drinks, birthday

**Implement:** Hand

**Type of story:** Teen!chesters

**Warning(s):** Spanking

* * *

"Hey, Dean? Wake up!" Sam tugged on the blankets which were covering his brother, frowning when Dean merely grunted something and rolled over. "Hey!" A harder tug succeeded in yanking the blankets off his brother.

"What the hell are you doing, Sammy?!" Dean jerked upright, glaring at his brother through sleep-encrusted eyes. "I'm trying to sleep here!"

"Don't you know what day it is?" Sam ran round to the side of the bed and started tugging on Dean's arm, too excited to care about the nickname he was using. "It's your birthday! Where's dad? We need to celebrate!"

"I don't know why _you're_ so excited, shrimp," Dean muttered, pulling his arm free of Sam's hold. "It's not that big a deal, really." With a slight sigh, he got out off the bed and started getting dressed. "Dad went out on a hunt last night. He didn't tell you because you were fast asleep. It's no big deal," he added, when Sam's face threatened to fall. "Dad's job is important."

"It _is_ a big deal," Sam muttered, turning away. He didn't care so much if John was never there for his birthday, but their father obviously preferred Dean better – and he should be there for his favoured son's birthday.

"Seriously, Sammy, it isn't. At least it's not Christmas." Dean shook his head when Sam refused to look at him. "It doesn't matter. At least we're both around. What do you want to do?"

"It's _your_ birthday, Dean. You should decide what we do today."

"How about watching a movie or something?" Dean suggested brightly. "I'm not watching any chick flicks, though. Some kind of horror – like Alien. There's very little chance of us actually experiencing something like that." He smirked, then added, "But first of all, we'd probably better do the chores. Dad can't argue that way."

Sam pouted. "I don't want to do chores. I want to give you my present first."

Dean paused, and directed a sharp glance at him. "What present? I really hope you didn't steal anything, Sammy. We only do that if there's a serious need." He grimaced slightly. The last thing he wanted to do on his birthday was have to lecture his little brother about things he wasn't even sure he _could_ lecture him about.

Sam was shaking his head, though, with quite a surprised look on his face. "Actually," he admitted in a low voice, "I got the money by doing little jobs around various places we've been. I've been saving up for ages." Not only that, but it was one of the hardest things for a fourteen-year-old boy to do.

But he'd wanted to give something back to Dean, and had wanted to do it himself. That was why he hadn't mentioned it to their father. His gift had taken all the money he had, but Sam considered it well-spent.

Dean looked surprised. "So _that's_ where you kept disappearing off to," he said, remembering how worried their father had been those times when they'd got back from a hunt only to find that he was missing. Sam could have saved himself a lot of pain if he'd just admitted the reason behind his constant disappearances.

But Sam had inherited their father's stubbornness. It was what had made him and the man clash so often.

Sam nodded slightly. "I didn't want to tell you... I wanted it to be a surprise," he said, before putting a hand to his head. "Oww..."

"Still feeling sick from last night?" Dean asked, a slightly sympathetic tone to his voice. "You can lie down until the film, if you want. I'll take care of the chores. I'm not going to just sit around doing nothing, even if it _is_ my birthday," he added, when Sam opened his mouth to protest.

Sam nodded slightly, hoping that Dean wasn't going to suspect that he wasn't ill at all – but provided Dean didn't check the alcohol levels, he should be fine.

Right?

* * *

"SAM!" Dean roared.

Sam jerked slightly and sat up, looking around guiltily. His brother's shout just made his head hurt worse, and he winced. The painkillers he had taken clearly weren't doing any good. Now, he was beginning to wish it had never even occurred to him to drink the whiskey. It had made him throw up, and he felt like he had a hangover.

Even though – really – he shouldn't have had one at all. It wasn't like he had drunk loads of the whiskey.

Dean appeared in the doorway, holding the bottle of whiskey. "Care to explain _this_?" he demanded.

"_You_ do it," Sam muttered.

"That's not the point, Sammy, and you know it. You're too young to be drinking. But it's not even that which I'm mad about. You _stole_ it, Sam. If you'd asked, I probably would have let you try some. But this just makes me think that I can't trust you." Dean set the bottle down on the floor, and then walked over to the bed. Sitting down, he closed his fingers around his brother's wrist and pulled him across his lap. He didn't bother baring Sam's bottom. The pyjama trousers didn't offer much protection.

Dean started swatting straight away, ignoring the way Sam wriggled and squirmed. "You don't steal from me, Sam. I'm your brother, the one person you should know you can always count on."

Finally, when Sam was crying and Dean could feel the heat radiating through his trousers, he stopped, resting his hand on his brother's back. "You don't steal from me," he repeated. "Some day, I might have to trust you with my life. But right now, you're going to have to earn my trust back."

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered around his tears.

Dean shook his head, and let him up. Even though he didn't like hugging, he still held his arms out, and felt his brother barrel into him. "Hey... It's all right."

"I'm sorry," Sam repeated.

Dean squeezed him even tighter, then let go and raised his eyebrows. "Okay. You're finishing the rest of the chores, since you're clearly not ill. But first... you have a present for me?"

Sam nodded, and took out a small package from under the bed. "I had protection spells put on it," he explained, wiping at his eyes with his free hand. "I don't want anything to happen to you, Dean. You're my brother."

Dean took the package and opened it, taking out a necklace. He glanced at Sam and raised his eyebrows.

"It took all the money I had... I'm sorry if you don't like it."

"I like it." Dean slipped the necklace around his neck. "Thank you, Sammy. I'll wear it all the time."

**The End**


End file.
